Trophy of the Mudslinger
by The Anonymous Candybar
Summary: In which Sue thinks about how her actions actually affect others. Inspired by the latest episode of Glee, Mash-Off. Spoilers to those who haven't seen it.


So the latest episode kind of really got me. Maybe not so much the whole Santana-getting-outed part- not to say that _didn't_, because it actually really did- but even more so the fact that Sue was actually... kind of... I don't know, _distressed_ by the fact that it got out to the public because of her campaign? I don't know. Read and enjoy.

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><p>There is only one word for that cold, greasy feeling curdling in the pit of her stomach as she watches her Head Cheerleader cry. Disgust. Pure, unadulterated, shame-riddled, impossibly <em>powerful<em> disgust. Worse yet, it's not even disgust at seeing one of her most conditioned girls cry. This awful feeling is fully and completely directed at one Sue Sylvester.

Sue does a lot of awful things, she will admit. Like when she replaced Porcelain's hair product with glue, or the time she greased the floor so that Wheels wouldn't be able to brake, or that one little incident with Schuester and the watermelons (though that one wasn't _entirely_ her doing). She is vicious, ruthless, and sometimes unnecessarily cruel, but she has never regretted her actions. Until now, that is.

"I'm sorry, Santana." She doesn't know how many times she says it. She knows for sure, though, that she has said it more today than she has in her entire life.

"I haven't even told my parents yet." Santana chokes out before she bolts out of the room, trying to escape Burt's understanding eyes, Schuester's outstretched hand, Sue's sympathy. Everything she knows, everything she has worked for, is gone.

And it's Sue's fault.

She looks back at the television that had just shown the hateful campaign advertisement. Sue wants to smash it. She wants to smash herself more. It all seems so ridiculous now; the lies, the attacks on her opponents. What was she even fighting for, anyways? A ban on the arts? Laughable. Wasn't her original intent to help people like her dear, late sister? If Jean could see her now… How could she have lost sight of the very cause that had spearheaded her campaign for Senator? In losing her way, she also ended up hurting a girl who had taken painful measures to protect herself.

Sue has no idea how she missed it, but now that she thinks about it the whole thing is startlingly obvious. Santana's overprotective attitude towards Brittany is completely out of character when lined up with the way she treats other people. She strikes preemptively so that nobody will have the balls to step up to her. It is a form of defense, one Sue is well acquainted with as it is her personal favorite. The thing about it, though, is that people will take shots at those around you. Santana happened to be around Sue.

After Santana flees, they stand in the office for a very long time. They don't say much, or anything at all really. Sue leans one hip against her desk, arms crossed, eyes on the floor. Burt strolls to the window and looks outside, his jaw working its displeasure. Schuester looks at the door Santana had just whisked through, maybe hoping she will return and talk to them, or maybe wondering how he could have been such an idiot to miss this. The silence stretches long and thin until, finally, it breaks.

"Much as I would love to stand around in an awkward silence while you dunderheads attempt to make heads or tails of what's going on, I have a campaign- and a reputation- to save. Off with you two, but don't push yourself too hard, Hummel, we don't want you to have to get _another_ baboon heart. Nothing personal."

Schuester and Burt don't even have anything to say in reply. They simply get up and leave.

Sue waits until the door is shut before she lets herself fall back into her chair, head hung in defeat. All she can think about is Santana, shell-shocked, crying, devastated. Sue used to relish it when her Cheerios cried; used to take pride in her power over them. She would burn each droplet into her memory like some sort of prize to revisit whenever she needed a reminder that there really are people out there who are more pathetic than she is.

"I'm sorry." She whispers, even though there is nobody around to hear it anymore. The disgust settles in her stomach like an awful, parasitic monster waiting to leech everything out of her.


End file.
